


Fruit Salad

by JohnnyMignotta (zeroschiuma)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Barebacking, Bottom Louis, Circus, Light BDSM, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 23:05:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeroschiuma/pseuds/JohnnyMignotta
Summary: Harry Styles has fifteen dachshunds named after fruit; Louis is the Art Director of Psycho Circus: he eats fire, tames lions and lip-syncs in drag. They attended Magic Summer Camp together in 2011, and Harry made a fool of himself.They are currently the main attractions of the two best circuses in the whole industry.Harry needs to learn how to tame his lions though; Louis ends up teaching him something else in the meantime.





	Fruit Salad

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I started writing this silly thing when the circus came into the neighbourhood back in February. It's also inspired by the weird lady in my building who's got two identical dachshunds and never greets anyone unless they say hi first.  
> It's basically just me having fun really: everything is so random I swear I only wrote it when I was too tired to think of details and twists and charachterization. I just love Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson together and I wanted 16 dachshund puppies. That's basically it.  
> This idea would have never seen the light if it hadn't been for my amazingly talented and beautiful girlfriend of three years, which I met through One Direction, [Speechless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speechless/pseuds/Speechless). Thanks, bb. ❤  
> I love comments and I promise I am going to reply to every single one of them, but in the meantime I'd like to thank each and every single one of you for reading, leaving kudos and reaching out for me: I haven't written fiction in almost a decade and I really need the moral support. Lots of love! ❤  
>   
> TL;DR - Circus, dachshunds, dedicated to gf, author's a sucker for feedback.

Harry’s got the kind of face you hardly forget. He wears super colorful suits, and he has this silly hair you keep thinking of even a month after seeing him on stage.  
Not to mention the dogs. He’s got fifteen of them. Dachshunds. They follow him around everywhere he goes. Zayn, that’s been in his crew since 2014, swears they even follow him to the bathroom, waiting patiently for him to run the water, cuddling on the tiled floor and wagging their tails enthusiastically.

Louis went to see his show in London once, big ass venue, hundreds of people eating cotton candy under the flashing lights.  
He’s got all sorts of animals, that’s the best part, and an orchestra that highlights everything that happens on stage like a very well staged soundtrack of sorts. He has a few acrobats too, and the clowns, and the colours of the outfits and the lights and the fucking penguins make up for the decadent atmosphere that every circus inevitably carries around.

Louis got there undercover, of course. Zayn got him the ticket. He wouldn’t have shown up at the competition’s main gig in other circumstances.  
Thing is, everyone in the business was babbling about the amazing show Harry fucking Styles appeared to have put together, and he was curious to see if he finally managed to make his bloody dachshunds dance.

Turns out he did.

Louis still remembers Harry from the camp. The Magic Summer Camp, for those who haven’t been wannabe magicians in their teens.  
He was this awkward salad with purple polos juggling with fruit all the time back then. Louis liked him from the word start. Actually everyone loved him, and apparently everyone still does.  
He had three dogs only back then and his parents took them to the Final Show, the one Louis won; since everyone liked Harry and he had been bragging about his dancing puppies all summer, at the end of the show they let him take the stage over and do his little number.  
It was hilarious. Not only those cute dachshund puppies couldn’t dance for shit, but they also were so excited to see Harry again after four weeks one of them peed on stage. Harry cried a bit. He didn’t come back the year after.

Louis was still a young inexperienced fire-eater at the age of eighteen. He was good already, he wouldn’t have won the contest otherwise, but he had only seen lions at the zoo at the time, and he had no idea girly clothes, make-up and Liam Payne would have made him rich someday.  
Then drag came into his life, and everything changed. For the best.  
He’s not envious of Harry Styles’ fame. Harry The Ringmaster Styles is good, period.  
He’s probably the best, what the hell. He’s got the charisma, and the body, and the voice, and the crew, and the money and his shows are somehow artistic in a way that Louis’ Psycho Circus could never be.  
Harry Styles is the main gig. Louis Tomlinson is a guy from Doncaster who went to burlesque classes for a laugh and decided it was a good way as another to make money.  
And, if since his undercover journey to Harry’s London show Louis hasn’t stopped thinking about Harry Styles’ mess of a hair, so be it. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that shit.  


* * *

When Gemma gets married everything goes to shit. Nobody can do her number, and the lions are going crazy, and Harry is thinking about quitting himself.  
It all starts with morning sickness and falls apart when Harry’s sister declares one night after the show that she’s got no intention of raising her child on the road.  
Harry is all about family and he loves his children dearly, so his first question to his retiring sister is: “what about the kittens?”.  
There’s not a single good unemployed lion tamer in the whole kingdom, it’s the thing. They’ve been looking. They even made a phone call to the King’s College looking for some wildlife biologist or something like that, someone inexperienced but willing to learn that could take care of the kittens even if they don’t perform. No luck.  
“I’ll do it myself” Harry says one night, while Zayn is putting his turban on.  
“Yeah, sure” is his eloquent answer.  
But it does turn out to be a difficult task especially because the puppies keep following him into the cage and, well, they say parents never have a favourite child, but if those lions raise a single paw on Banana or on Coconut Harry is definitely throwing a fit.  
“So what would you do?” Harry ends up asking Zayn.  
His snake charmer simply shrugs. “Lemme make a call” he says, and disappears into his trailer.

Zayn calls Louis Tomlinson. As if Harry’s life wasn’t difficult enough.

But Zayn doesn’t know. How could he?  
Harry was young, very young, and it was just a crush. He didn’t know Louis would one day become the Art Director of Psycho Circus, and more than anything he had no clue Louis would someday come back into his life with the purpose of teaching him how to make his sister’s lions obey him. So it’s definitely not Zayn’s fault, no. He could have asked for Harry’s permission before inviting Louis into his tent while he was rehearsing with the puppies wearing his briefs only, that’s for sure, but he’s not sixteen anymore, and this time Avocado isn’t gonna pee all over the stage. Hopefully.

He’s seen Louis’ routine. Who hasn’t? He is unique. His shows truly are psychedelic. He does this number where he comes out of a ring of fire all dressed in a flame dress with a lion on each side of him. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, the kind of number that keeps you glued to your chair till the very last note of the song.  
He lips-syncs too. He dances. And his lions are fucking puppets, that must be it, because he makes them jump through the fire and cuddle him and Zayn swears he makes them swim into a fucking pool for summer gigs.  
So it’s only fair that Zayn called him of all people. They’re both doing good in the industry, and if Harry really has to learn how to be a lion tamer, and that’s actually their only option at this point, at least he’d better learn from the best. If the best packed his frilly pink costume too, that’s just a plus really.

* * *

Life on the road isn’t easy. They get to see a lot of places, and meet hundreds of people, and the faces children, but adults too, make at their shows pay off for all the stress, and the homesickness, and the general turmoil that’s the circus life.  
At some point it becomes home. The crew doubles as family. Your bed becomes the air matress you set up into the lion’s trailer and you end up not being able to tell your smell from the ones of the animals.  
Louis loves circus life. Picked it himself. But he also picked his and Liam’s crew, that’s why when he enters Harry Styles’ tent and finds him joking around with his main number, the God forsaken puppies, he feels a bit lost.  
“What are you even doing?” is his way of saying hello to him.  
Harry looks surprised to see him, as if Zayn hadn’t begged him to spend his week off with their crew to introduce Harry to his sister’s lions. “Grape” Harry tells one particular dog, although they all look the same to Louis, “sit”.  
Said dachshund obediently sits on his big fat arse and Louis chuckles. “When they all do it it’s way less funny” he comments, witty.  
Harry just arches his brow.  
“Same goes with your cats, doesn’t it?”. Louis rolls his eyes. “Lions are majestic creatures” he tries to explain, although Harry must be dense if he even thought of making the connection, “they are _never_ funny”. First task for his very first day as a teacher, he has to make the topic interesting for his student, so his next move is asking Harry to show him the most incredible trick his dachshunds can do. “I want to not believe what I’m seeing” he challenges him.  
Harry apparently was more than ready for this. He was probably waiting for someone to ask him just that from the day he first started throwing sticks for his puppies to catch. He goes “one” and one radom dog stands on two legs. Then he goes “two” and “three” and “four” and all fifteen bloody dachshunds stand, forming a circle, and all of a sudden Harry makes a shooting sound, just a “pew” really, and every single dog falls to the ground, all at the same fucking moment, and Harry starts applauding.  
Louis won’t lie: he’s fucking impressed. Harry is laughing though, cuddling his dogs one by one, while “they need the praise” he explains to Louis: “next time they won’t do as good if I don’t tell them how good they did right after”.  
And all of a sudden Louis is thinking about sex. And that’s, well… Very interesting.  
Life as Harry Styles’ lion taming teacher is definitely gonna be one hell of a ride.  
Louis hopes he will be the one riding.

Gemma Styles’ lions are named Cookie and Crumble. They are old and hella huge. Two males, snuggling in their cage, all cozy and sleepy.  
Louis entered the trailer with the best intentions, you must believe him. He was telling Harry about the tone he has to use with them, the same he hopes Harry will be using with him in his bed later, when Harry just piles on top of the lions in what appears to be an attempt to take a nap with them.  
He would forgive him because he’s wearing his boxers only, but what the hell?  
“Harry, for Christ’s sake” he breathes, “this is not how you establish dominance”.  
Harry is making that face again, like he has no clue what’s going on and he hasn’t watched his beloved sister bossing around those dangerous mammals all his life day in day out.  
“They miss Gemma” is his excuse: “I’m comforting them”.  
Louis offers him a hand. Harry takes it. And it’s funny because Louis has only ever read this kind of shit in books, but a shiver runs through his spine and there’s electricity in the air and all he can think of is how good that hand would look gripping his cock. _Tight_.  
Not to make him come right away.  
“You have to stand tall” he instructs him. “These animals live in packs, and they have to see you as their leader if you want them to obey you”. Harry is standing tall now actually. He is _very_ tall. So tall, in fact, that he could probably lift Louis in his arms and carry him to his bed with no effort. Louis would definitely obey him. Fuck, Louis is definitely going to obey his every order. “Do you remember you sister’s keywords?”.  
Harry does. He turns around, faces the lions, and “kittens” he goes, sweet, “out”.  
One of the lions yawns. The other poops. Harry has this incredible power: he makes animals go to the toilet with no effort.  
He’s got this other talent, though: he makes Louis super hot. He shakes his fringe off his forehead and shrugs, and Louis’ cock just jumps. He’s still the teenage boy who made a fool of himself at Magic Camp, but he’s also an incredible performer and a very sexy young man.  
And, if Louis wants to get a piece of that body of his, he has to make these lions thing right. It’s gonna take a little effort, but the result is probably gonna pay off once he starts applying what he’s taught fucking Louis in the arse too.  
“Kittens” Louis goes then, rolling his eyes at the nickname, “out”. And, of course, the lions stand up and step out of their cage. Louis just smirks at Harry’s amazed expression. “Now put them back in, would you?” he orders Harry.  
Harry laughs, winks at Louis and tries again.

Louis wishes Harry would put something else in too.

* * *

Louis hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still gorgeous, and charming in an almost spooky way. He’s obnoxiously witty, and the kind of sassy that’s almost never too much and, more than anything, he’s confident. Maybe disturbingly confident.  
He enters a room and the room itself is grateful he’s there.  
Harry had such a huge crush on him back on Magic Summer Camp. He remembers his striped t-shirts and his ugly canvas shoes they never had him put on.  
Harry also remembers talking to him, one night when they escaped their tents and went to the nearest village to find some booze, and the way he spoke like he had the whole world wrapped around his finger.  
He had this thing going on for him: he talked like he was famous already. Like he was a star. He could see it happening, and his way of describing it made you see it too. Harry was starstruck. The more Louis spoke about the stage, and the animals, and the ballerinas, and the fat lady, and the clowns, the more Harry could play the whole fantasy in his very mind like it was his own.  
Louis convinced him to the point that Harry started believing him; he had no doubt Louis would somehow manage to get all this, and the fame, eventually. And the worst thing is, Harry was so drunk he ended up wishing upon a shooting star Louis would become the best.  
It’s ridiculous, see, because when the other kids started seeing shooting stars Harry was sure he would wish Louis would kiss him. But, then, after looking at him in the eye, that incredible blue, his silky brown hair framing that pretty face of his, Harry had no second thought: he wanted this boy to get whatever he wanted and more, cause he deserved just that.  
He deserved everything he wished for.  
That bit him in the arse when Louis became his direct competition a few years after, but he also ended up having dinner at his table at some point, didn’t he?

“So Liam is an acrobat” says Michael, one of the clowns.  
Louis is munching on a slice of bread, but he nods. Then he swallows, smiling with a glass of wine in his pretty hand, and “he can fly” he adds, because that’s exactly what everyone thinks about acrobats and nobody ever says. Only really little kids maybe, and dumb assholes. People don’t fly, Louis; that’s what someone should say. It’s a figure of speech, maybe, or maybe Louis is exaggerating things to make his staff look way cooler than Harry’s on purpose, but the way he says it, the way he looks like he believes it, makes you accept whatever bullshit he just said like it’s one hell of a normal thing and undoubtedly the truth.  
So Liam can fly alright.  
Louis likes red wine apparently. And he also likes dirty jokes. He’s been doing this thing with Harry where he turns everything into a hint to, Harry doesn’t even know, maybe fighting him or maybe get off together? Harry is not sure whether is the one or the other. Earlier, for example, he was setting up the table for everyone and he looked at Harry in an almost contemplative way, like he was wondering if he matched the style of the furniture or not. Then he started sucking on his lower lip, like he was trying very hard to remember the exact shade of pink of his curtains, he can’t buy a Harry if it doesn’t look right with the curtains, and then he solemnly stated: “you could hurt me pretty bad if you wanted”.  
The first thing that crossed Harry’s mind was: you are annoying indeed, Louis, but not to the point where I wanna punch you. _Yet_.  
Then Harry realized two things: the first, Louis was saying it as a compliment; the second, yes, he definitely could, so if things were to get violent, Harry was positive he would get the upper hand.  
Then a few minutes later Harry was staring. He’s not ashamed, he just was. Louis is one attractive young man. He’s muscular, and tiny, and assertive, and he moves like he owns the place. Louis called him out on it. Smirked at him the way he always does, winked mischievously, and “you’re gonna make me lock the bathroom door and rub one off if you don’t stop looking at me like you wanna eat me”.  
That’s when it hits him really, right there and then, at the table, surrounded by the whole crew and his mum and the orchestra and Zayn. Louis is _food_ to him. He is delicious, and juicy, and Harry would definitely bite into him to feel his confident peel break under his canine teeth to let sugary sweet juice drip on his chin. God, he would love Louis’ taste. He could get addicted to his taste. He wants to get his whole face dirty. Oh, God, what _even_. So he interrupts Louis while he’s telling Nick about his most revealing costume, because what the hell: if Louis can hint at it shamelessly so can Harry, right? He pours more wine into Louis’ glass, coughs into his own fist and then “you are a passion fruit” he tells Louis.  
Louis looks taken aback. That’s a good look on him, but then again what exactly would look bad on Louis Tomlinson? “What did you just say?” he is almost choking, flushed and somehow awkward. Cute.  
“You are a maracuja” Harry explains further then, “a passion fruit. And if you were one of my dogs I would call you just that”.  
Louis only smiles then. He’s still blushing, totally out of character, but then he bites his lips and “I hope you will remember this dog analogy later” he says, making everyone’s jaws drop, “when we’re in bed together”.  
So maybe Louis doesn’t wanna fight him. That’s good news. Everything seems to indicate that he’d be more into mutual mastrubation than into pointless beatings, but then again he’s Louis, master of suspense and element of surprise, and Harry can’t be entirely positive he’s not gonna bite his cock off.  
Well, it would be worth it anyway. Harry gives a compassionate piece of sausage to Apple Pie that’s snarling under the table and he thinks, with a little smile, that random worst-case-scenarios aside, he might very well be fucking Louis Tomlinson in a very short while. And that’s awesome, thank you shooting star in 2010.  
He’s probably also a bit late to his own party, but then again Louis definitely decided it was gonna happen the moment he stepped foot into their trailer park, didn’t he?  
Louis kicks his leg under the table and then places a sneaky, confident, dirty hand on his groin. He undoes his fly.  
Oh, well. Passion fruit indeed.

His very first crush was Louis Tomlinson.  
He spent a whole summer masturbating exclusively thinking about his cute little body at the age of sixteen.  
He’s fantasized about meeting him again for the best part of his late teens.  
Sometimes, when he got famous, he even thought of going to one of his shows, visit him backstage and flat-out ask him on a date.  
Louis is, without any doubt or further question, the boy of his dreams.  
So it’s easy to understand what happens next.  
They enter Harry’s trailer kissing already. They waste no time. Louis kisses with his lips dry, only grants access to his mouth for small, sexy licks into Harry’s. Harry’s heart is beating so fast he’s scared he might go insane when Louis takes off their shirts and puts his hand into Harry’s pants. When he goes “it’s so fucking _big_ , Jesus” Harry’s heart really misses a beat.  
A second later he’s even hungrier for Louis’ body, to the point where he shamelessly starts fingering him through his briefs, letting the fabric catch into that tiny hole Harry has never laid eyes on; Louis isn’t polite about it either: he rubs himself against Harry’s thigh like he’s going crazy with it, like he needs friction so bad he’s gonna cry soon. He’s also hurrying Harry into getting down to business. “Come on _fuck me_ oh my God” he’s saying, demanding, and Harry is suddenly more than a little nervous.  
So he bites Louis. Hard. Takes his whole lower lip between his teeth and bites down on it, hard, only to suck it into his mouth right after.  
Louis is literally losing his mind at this point. He’s wanking Harry in earnest, fisting his cock so hard and so fast Harry is seeing stars. And it’s so dirty and so good because they’re still standing and with their pants on, they couldn’t even manage to reach the bed and get properly undressed, and Harry at some point realizes he’s fucking up into Louis’ fist, rubbing Louis’ hole at the same rhythm and, that’s what truly shocks him, “yeah, like that” his mouth is saying without his brain catching up with it, “gonna make me come”.  
Louis barely has the time to look up from his groin to look at him. “What?” he’s asking, and then… And then Harry is spurting cum on his chest, and in fis fringe, and on his perplexed face.

* * *

Louis wakes up with a start. Something wet is touching his foot. No, _worse_ , someone is lapping at his foot. Well, not someone, that would have been either creepy if they were attractive or disgusting if they were ugly: something.  
Louis realizes what it is when he hears Harry’s voice from outside the tent calling “Peach!”. It’s one of his stupid dachshunds.  
He had the fifteen of them wait for him outside of the tent while Harry came ten seconds into their attempt of a shag last night, what is _Peach_ doing at his feet now?  
“Peach, where are” Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.  
“She’s here” he cries, getting up, finally taking a look at the small dog enthusiastically licking his toes. Maybe too enthusiastically. She must have inherited this trait from her sexy, stupid father.  
Harry is standing outside like a loon. Louis isn’t going to let him in, what the hell; Harry has to learn how to be more assertive, he has to take what he fucking wants, he can’t just stand there waiting for things to happen.  
Louis is also naked, still warm, so it would only be natural if Harry joined him in bed so they could maybe do what they tried to last night, only hopefully better. But Louis isn’t going to invite him in, not a chance. Harry Styles is sexy, _very sexy_ , and if the circumstances were even only slightly different Louis would be crawling on the floor and getting his big fat dick out and into the tent through the zipper, suckling on it just teasingly for a bit. But no, thank you.  
Louis has work to do. He’s on a mission. Harry won’t have him ‘till he knows how to fucking take him. Period.  
So Louis ends up petting Peach on the head instead. He keeps her there. Eventually, Harry leaves.  
So much to learn in so little time.

The first three days are so physically and psychologically tiring Louis can’t wait to go back to Psycho Circus. He even calls Liam on the phone late one night, because one thing is working hard because you believe in a project, another thing altogether is watching someone fail over and over again for three days.  
Harry is terrible with the lions.  
He cuddles them, speaks sweetly to them, only cares about getting them washed and well fed.  
Louis understands, of course. Harry is a sweet boy. Even the way he basically courts Louis, with cute notes on his paper napkin scribbled during dinner, compliments on his methods with the beasts, borderline naughty touches and whispered dirty talk in public: he is just a well mannered, well spoken young man.... So not suitable for lion taming.  
Louis was scared Harry would think he was letting him down easy, so he made it clear from the beginning: “look” he told him on the first day then, right after Harry stumbled on the floor and Crumble almost sat on top of him, “I can’t wait for you to fuck me raw, but you aren’t getting any until you get this right first”.  
Harry said it was actually a good idea, and he also used the word strategy, which was very mature, educated and kinda hot, but then he said something along the lines of “I waited my entire life, I can wait a little longer” and, well, definitely not suitable for lion taming.

On the third night Louis is smoking a joint with Zayn when he sees Harry crossing the camp with his dogs in tow.  
He’s wearing his yellow robe in the late night’s chill. Louis can’t help but smile: it’s amazing how Harry manages to _be_ his public persona; there’s no difference between stage Harry Styles and off-stage Harry Styles.  
“Do you think you could charm Harry into being more dominant?” he asks Zayn then, because maybe there is an easiest way around this and he can get that cock much faster. Their time is running out: four days to go.  
Unfortunately Zayn shakes his head. “No cheating” he even states, puffing a cloud of smoke into Harry’s general direction.  
Louis sighs. “But you’re a snake charmer” Louis points out then, “you could charm his snake into fucking me without him having a saying into it”.  
Zayn doesn’t even laugh to his clever, clever joke. He looks at him, hands him the joint, then he “teach him the thing, Louis” spits and leaves him there.  
There’s no way out of this.

* * *

After practicing with Louis and the kittens all day long, Harry is frustrated and more than a little dejected. He exercises a bit, showers with Cherry and Watermelon, visits the orchestra guys at rehearsals and then he sits at the dinner table.  
Louis is texting his costume designer. There is a white frilly dress on the screen of his phone, and he’s recording an audio note. “Make it shorter, Eleanor” he’s chirping, “I don’t exercise everyday to hide this arse”.  
“Yeah” Harry tries, when Louis has sent the note already, “so why don’t you show me?”.  
Louis laughs. “Not even a peak” he mewls, soft and flirty, rolling his head on Harry’s shoulder and nipping on his jaw, “until you learn how to be more dominant”.  
He looks so good right now. Looking up from under the cap, his eyes so blue, his gaze so sweet; only wearing an oversized sweater on boxers briefs; he has a baseball cap on his messy, almost blonde hair. Louis Tomlinson is so attractive, God. “Show me your arse” Harry demands then, trying to sound harsh and strong and not just, like, horny and in love with him.  
But Louis laughs again. “You’re getting much better” he says, patting Harry on the head. Then he kisses him, a chaste peck, very loud and short, “but you still look horny and in love more than anything”. He presses his palm on Harry’s inner thigh, leaves a small trail of kisses on his neck and then he says something Harry will never forget: “me and the kittens, we don’t need the praise like your fruit salad does” - he points at the dogs, cheerfully playing beside the table - “we know we’re good already. What we need is for you to give us no choice”. And suddenly Louis is sort of moaning into Harry’s ear. He’s “make me” whispering.  
His hand is so close to Harry’s dick though, Jesus. Harry has his eyes closed at this point, too caught up in the moment to care about anything else, and he can’t wait to feel Louis' hand there, so he just “make you what?” asks.  
And then Louis’ touch is gone. “Test failed” he’s saying, fixing his own erection inside his briefs and pulling down the sweater, “not getting laid tonight either, Styles”.  
Harry is exhausted.

Louis put together a little show for Harry’s crew. He’s put on some make-up and he is currently eating fire and dancing through it. He’s so hot, muscles tense and skin oiled up, his hair sweaty, in his underwear only, swaying his hips under that incredible light.  
Harry leaves all the dogs except for Apple Pie into the tent and he looks for him for a while. Then he finally finds him: _Niall_.  
He hands him a cold beer, smiles at him and “so” he goes, trying to sound conversational.  
“What do you want, Harry?” Niall cuts him short, always the gentleman.  
The thing is: on tour Niall is just one of the clowns, but they actually met him when they were doing fairs. He’s an exceptional fortune teller. He does tarots, crystal balls, coffee grounds, even horoscopes.  
“I need to know, Niall”.  
Niall shakes his head. “I told you already” he admonishes him, “I need to be _very_ drunk”.

So, when the show’s over, Harry makes Niall drunk. Or, rather, he tries. Niall’s had a little too much for dinner, and since he started to follow them on the road he’s got more used to the occasional drinking. This isn’t as easy as Harry thought at all.  
“I just have to pee oceans” he’s currently sobbing, sitting cross-legged in Harry’s tent, cuddling with the puppies. “Also” he’s pointing out, somehow reasonably, “you were snogging at the table tonight, I think that answers your questions already”.  
But that’s not the point, is the thing. Harry won’t go for snogging him only, especially since they weren’t snogging at all. Louis was teasing him, and trying to teach him some twisted lesson, and they’re not together. Harry has _to know_.  
“Come on, Niall” Harry says, uncapping another beer, “loo, more beer, my future”.  
“Alright” Niall shouts all of a sudden, his ears exceptionally red, when he’s back. “I’m gonna try something new on you, let’s see if it works”.  
Harry would be down for anything right now really. He is so tired of waiting. It’s been four days only, three to go, and he has to know. He can’t go on like this.  
So what Niall does is taking both his lobes between his thumbs and index fingers; he closes his eyes, apparently very concentrated, and then “you’re going to get another dog” he tells him.  
This is such good news! “Amazing!” Harry cheers, already a little happier. “And?”.  
Niall hums. He fiddles with his ears some more and then “yes” he announces, looking almost relieved himself, “you and Louis are gonna end up together”.  
The puppies are wiggling their tails so hard at the news Harry has to kiss Niall on the cheek. “You’re the best, buddy” he tells him.  
“I know” Niall sighs.  
Fucking finally.

Something shifts from then on. Harry changes. From the moment Niall tells him he’s going to end up together with Louis on, he is a completely different person.  
Because, see, he can already see it happening. All _sixteen_ of his puppies cuddled up in his tent, even the one he hasn’t gotten yet; Gemma’s kittens, too, following him around and obeying his every order; Louis next to him, kissing him, holding his hand, calling him “love”.  
He’s got it all figured out. He starts acting like it.  
The next day, he gets into the lions’ cage with the right attitude. He goes “kittens” only, and both Cruble and Cookie immediately lift their heads. They get out of their cage when Harry says so, jump on stage when he says “up”, slowly walk beside him, even sit at his command.  
Louis doesn’t comment on it for a while. Only when the kittens complete their routine, bow their heads and submissively follow Harry into their cage, he bats his eyelashes and slides an arm around Harry’s torso. “Well done, Harry” he lusciously whispers, his eyes big with both pride and amusement.  
Harry would have blushed only in different circumstances. But then again Niall assured him Louis will soon be his boyfriend, so Harry gets a grip, smiles warmly and “I want to eat you out” he just flat-out declares, voice deep, self-assured, convincing. Louis grips on his t-shirt. He brushes his warm cheek on Harry’s arm. He goes: “you might”.  
Thank you, Niall. Harry breathes against Louis’ lips. “I _will_ ” he says.  
He fucking will.

* * *

What happens next is just mind-blowing, really. Have you met Harry The Ringmaster Styles? Up until yesterday he was a cute, sexy mess. An angel to his dachshund puppies, a good boss to everyone in his troupe, a genius when it came to performing, a well-spoken, well-mannered, educated young man among small crowds.  
And here he is, on his knees, his face buried in Louis’ arse, lapping at his hole like it’s his fucking last supper. He’s gripping on Louis’ thighs so hard he’s sure going to leave bruises, dripping spit all over the air mattress, spanking his cheeks when Louis gets too weak to keep his legs parted.  
At some point he even starts talking. “So yummy” he hums, and Louis is no fool: he’s losing his mind over how good it fucking feels, he probably started moaning the moment Harry breathed against his hole, but all he wants right now is to take a glimpse of what’s going on down there. So he looks down, a hand on his sweaty forehead because he’s having so much fun this time he might come too fucking soon, and what he sees is so incredibly sexy he wants to take a picture: Harry’s pretty curls are all messy, going in every direction; Louis’ cock, so hard it hurts, what the _hell_ , bobbing up and down in the air, untouched. It even twitches a little when Harry stops licking for a second, touches Louis’ tummy and “you are delicious, baby” he moans, going down again to suck on his balls, “I wanna eat you out all day”.  
It’s unbelievable because not only Harry is actually really fucking good at this, he’s also so dirty Louis might come any second. At some point he confirms Louis’ first impression and he seriously says: “I wanna eat your little hole only for the rest of my life” and, God, _yes_ , Louis would love that too.  
Unfortunately Harry would die at some point, because the nutritional values of his arse hole are very low and Harry is both an artist and an athlete; also, you know, Louis would also love to get fucked with that huge cock of his at some point but, well, the dirty talk is good, and it’s new, and it’s both an act of complete devotion and the boldest move Harry has ever made in his presence.  
“Turn around” he fucking tells Louis at some point, already gripping his hips to turn him around himself and, honestly, if Louis doesn’t let himself cum all over himself yet it’s just because he wants to see what Harry has in store for him next.  
And then, when Louis is on his hands and knees, right when Harry spreads his ass-cheeks and fucking spits on his hole, Harry “stay still” orders, leaving bruises on his skin, “and I’m going to feed my cock to this little hole”... And Louis comes.  
What _in the name of God_ just happened?

So Harry Styles fucks like an animal. That’s the most amazing news ever. Louis is going to start a diary: “ _Dear diary, today I found out Harry from Magic Summer Camp shags boys like a fucking animal_ ”. It’s a goddamn relief. No good manners, no sweet talk, no blushing. His cock is so big Louis can feel its shape clearly inside him, and it gets bigger and bigger at every drag of skin against skin.  
Louis breathes in when Harry gets out of his hole; he breathes out when Harry leaves him empty and probably gaping. Louis doesn’t even know how loud he’s being but, if the little pool of saliva that formed on the pillow is of any indication, he’s been moaning like a slut for years.  
At some point Harry starts talking again, _dirty_ talking, he goes on and on about how good it his for him to finally see the great Louis Tomlinson on hands and knees to take his cock, about how he knew Louis would fucking gag for it from the moment he first saw him at age sixteen, complimenting his hole for how tight and warm it is and even slapping his arse in admonishment when Louis starts touching himself because he got hard again, what the _fuck_.  
Harry thrusts in once, twice, three more times and then he manhandles Louis on his back again.  
Then he takes both his knees and lifts his legs, missionary. He kisses Louis so deeply, so thoughtfully, in such a dirty fucking way Louis can’t keep his hips still. But then Harry places the head of his beautiful cock against his hole again, rubs it a little, skin against skin, and “make sure this hole grips on my dick the tightest when you come again” he commends, and he starts fucking in and out of him again and again, again and again, Louis’ cock trapped between their bodies, kissing Louis’ chest and neck and cheeks and, _God_ , Louis wants this to never end.  
Louis opens his eyes for a second, looking at the tent, at the scratches on Harry’s back, at his muscles tensing; then Harry looks up at him, his eyes shiny and somehow happy, and all of a sudden it hits him.  
“ _Dear diary, I’m falling in love with Harry from Magic Summer Camp_ ” should be his first entry. 

* * *

At three a. m. they’re still up, naked on the air mattress, covered in spunk and surrounded by Harry's dachshunds. Some of them are asleep, some others are demanding cuddles, the smallest one only is minding his own business next to the bedside table.  
“No, Lou” Harry is trying again, “this one is Strawberry”. Then he pats another, identical one on the little head and goes: “she’s Papaya”.  
“Which one is Pineapple again?”. Louis is so confused.  
“The one you’re making very happy right now” Harry answers and, indeed, the puppy in Louis’ lap is going crazy with excitement because Louis is energetically petting is very short paws. Cute.  
“I like Pistachio better though” Louis says, just to make Harry frown.  
Harry doesn’t frown. He looks fondly at Pistachio, who’s currently asleep next to Harry’s limp dick, and he goes: “he’s a good boy; second best after Peach”.  
Louis kisses him. He has to. That’s something he always liked about this kid, the three versions of him he got so lucky to meet - the shy boy, the performer and the fucking animal - he is so passionate about his job. So dedicated. So deeply in love with what he does for a living.  
They kiss for a while, and then Louis smiles into the kiss: “I want to be the best among your boys though” he flirts, nipping on his lower lip for good measure.  
Harry chuckles. Then he goes serious again. “You’ll need training” he whispers, “ _Maracuja_ ”.  
And it’s both so hot and so funny Louis laughs first, then humps Harry’s leg. He’s hard again. Harry takes his hand, he kisses it right on the knuckles, and then places it on his groin. He’s hard too.  
“Which one is the cutie right next the bedside table?” Louis asks at some point, just out of curiosity.  
Harry stops jerking him off to look down. All the puppies are currently snuggled on the floor, since Harry wouldn’t engage in sexual activities with them so close, but the bedside table one is still there, all serious and unimpressed, sitting on his fat little arse. “Ah” Harry says, licking his own palm to make the friction slicker, “that’d be Kiwi”.  
“What a nice fruit salad” is all Louis can say, before starting to moan like a slut again, Harry’s fist going up and down his shaft so slowly it’s like fucking torture.

Louis goes back to Psycho Circus, and his costumes, and his lions and Liam Payne the morning after.  
That, surprisingly enough, feels like torture too.

* * *

The crowd is cheering, the orchestra and the lights are already on, everyone backstage is ready. It’s their first show after Gemma left; Zayn is standing beside Harry, his flute in his pocket, wearing his most elegant turban; Niall, full clown gear already on, takes Harry’s hand and “you’re gonna smash it, bro” he reassures him, mischievously winking.  
He’s fine. He’s calm. Something’s missing, but he’s got it. Harry’s fucking _got it_.  
Then, in his magenta velvet suit and his eyeliner already smeared under the burning hot lights, he waits for his cue. The music grows, the violins screech like a thousand cicadas, the penguins make their appearance, the kids go crazy and then Niall’s recorded voice announces: “Ladies and gentleman, Harry” - applause, screams, the crowd goes fucking crazy - “Styles!”.  
Harry has never been this calm his entire life. He gathers his fifteen dachshunds, fixes his hair, and “let’s go, pups” he goes, ready.  
Something’s clearly missing, but he’s ready. He’s gonna smash it.

That’s what he’s always liked about his job: the feeling of complete and utter satisfaction you get when the crowd loses it. He’s so happy right now, complimenting each and everyone of his puppies while the acrobats take off the stage, he feels like crying of joy: he thanks Banana, cuddles Coconut, says “I love you” to dear old Avocado; he kisses Grape’s forehead, shakes Pineapple paw making everybody backstage laugh, says “bravo” to Oranjuice and Pistachio because they were fucking amazing tonight; takes Strawberry into his arms, ruffles the hair on top od Cherry’s little head, finds Papaya and Watermelon trying to catch Taylor’s attention and thanks them profusely, then plays with Apple Pie a little, letting her munch on his fingers a little; then he hugs Peach, Pear and young Kiwi, so caught up in showing his puppies love he almost misses it.  
And then he sees it: a sixteenth dachshund, merely a puppy, not even capable of standing on his short chubby paws yet.  
That’s when he lifts the tiny little boy into his arms, eyes full of tears, and “Lemon!” he shouts, “I was waiting for you!”.  
“I was told you horoscope said” Louis’ voice says then “you were getting another puppy”.  
And yes, right, that’s what was missing: his Maracuja.  
The kiss Harry gives him, holding Lemon in his arms, lasts for a little longer than it should, and means: “ _welcome back, love_ ”.  
When the number with the acrobats is almost over, Louis interrupts their kiss and slaps Harry’s face. “Come on” he reminds him, “I didn’t miss rehearsals with my crew to snog you backstage”. He started touching Harry’s hair, looking at him straight in the eye: “I’m going to put my new burlesque costume on” he whispers, “so if something goes wrong, I’m ready to get on stage”. Then he breathes into Harry’s ear, bites his lobe a little, and only then he says: “but I’d rather only use it _after_ the show”.  
And, well, he’s Harry The Ringmaster Styles, right? He’s going to fucking _smash it_.  
He’s got everything he needs. If everything also happened to pack that white lacey costume, that’s just a plus really.


End file.
